royally flushed
by captainkillianhjones
Summary: "one is a royal, and the other has no clue" au


It takes her four years, three glaring hints and a first-hand meeting until she finally pieces it together.

Looking back, the signs were there from the start – the very first moment she met him, she knew there was something _different_ about him, the way his back was always so straight, his words ever so proper, how his manners were far too polite. But she'd never actually befriended a Brit, much less actually been there, so buying into media stereotypes, she'd guessed they just raised their kids differently over the pond.

They become fast friends, and for the first time it's her that makes the first move, asking him if he wanted to grab some drinks after work. She finds that for such a proper man, he can surely drink a lot. And Emma's never quite been a rum girl, but when he picks it as his poison, she can't help but call for one for herself as well.

That night, she finds out two things: one, he curses when he's drunk; and two, even in a drunken state, he's a perfect gentleman.

The first clue comes a year later, when they've become good friends who spend much free time together ( _platonically, might she add_ ). So when he says he's got to go back home for his cousin's wedding for the week, she can't help but feel slightly lonely for the next seven days. And in an attempt to show that she's not totally reliant on him and that she does have other friends, she and Ruby plan a girl's night, which ends up being them binge watching whatever's on Netflix.

When he comes back, he's in a chipper mood, telling her all about his cousin that _about time_ got married to his wife, when he'd already called from the beginning that she'd be the one for him.

"Big party?" she asks, sitting on his desk with her legs crossed as he reclines in his chair.

He grins at her, eyes crinkling, and _wow_ , she's never seen him so happy, so she figures it just has to do with seeing his family after over year of separation, "You have no idea."

-/-

A year later, and this time she really should have joined the dots together – because while she isn't some sort of detective, being a lawyer proves she's not stupid and yet, how did she not see it?

"My grandmother has this thing I have to go back for, so I'll be back in around a week, okay?"

"Her birthday?" she asks, barely turning her head as she stares at the screen at his place as he rummages around in the background for things he needs to bring home.

"Something of the sort," he replies shortly and she nods distractedly.

"How old is she?"

"Eighty-five? Eighty-six?"

She hums, stare remained stuck onto the scene playing, "Strong woman." He makes a sound of agreement in the back, shuffling around the room to get his things settled. The first time he went back, he'd made it a point that she didn't need to help – not out of any rude agenda, but simply because he felt as though it wasn't _proper_ for a woman to see a man's essentials when not wedded.

He's always been this structured, and over the last two years she'd grown fond of his _properness_. So, she didn't bother asking if he needed a hand, pushing into his apartment and turning on the last episode of Game of Thrones instead, the only thing she offers is her company. "So, is this a whole family event, or?"

"Pretty much the whole family, and then some," he answers vaguely and she doesn't make anything of it.

He only allows her to send him to the doors of the airport, not even the boarding gates, simply telling her that he's late for his flight anyway, (and while she _knows_ he's at least an hour early) she lets him off, hugging him there and telling him to take care.

It's only after the revelation, of course, that she figures out that it was far more than _some sort of birthday_ and far more than just _a family event_.

-/-

It's half to two on a Saturday night when he hears a knocking ( _well, more like a thumping_ ) at his door. He already knows too well that it's her, a lack of surprise on him when it is in fact Emma at his door. The surprise does come though, but it's her drunken state that it arrives with.

"It was Ruby's fault," is the only explanation she gives and he gets before she's pushing past him and making her way into his apartment.

"You reek of whiskey, Swan," he shuts the door after her, following as she finds her way to his bedroom. "Did you go out?" he wonders, noticing the dress she wears is definitely not the sort she'd wear when at home ( _\- not that she wears dresses at home_ ).

"We were _supposed to_ ," she slurs, landing with a muted thud on his bed. "But she and Victor – _I can't even remember what happened_ – she just wanted to rant and drink. We didn't even leave my place," she pouts childishly.

He doesn't ask why she'd come to his place if she were already at her own, simply accepting it with a soft smile. "Do you want to get out of that? It doesn't seem too comfortable," he mentions, not quite realising what he'd said until the words settled.

"Do _you_ want me to get out of this?" She tries for flirty, but all she gets is drunk, and it's awfully adorable.

He shakes his head with a smile, hoping to hide the blush he feels rising. "Here," he hands her an old t-shirt and his sweatpants, "I'll be… outside," he tries not to reach up and scratch his ear, a tell he knows she'll catch, but in her inebriated state, he doesn't think it matters. He shuffles out the room, giving her privacy as he goes to the kitchen to boil some water.

When he comes back, hot chocolate with cinnamon sprinkled on top in hand, she's all but snuggled up under his comforter in his clothes.

"Thanks," she smiles lazily, reaching for the mug while using her other hand to pat on the bed, gesturing for him to sit next to him.

He procures a bottle of Advil and places it on the nightstand on her side, "For tomorrow," he says.

When he slides under the covers next to her, she curls into him, her legs hug his and she rests her head against his chest. It would be easy to kiss her right now with how close their lips are, but he is a gentleman before his feelings and as much as he wants to act on those feelings, she _is_ drunk and he does have morals.

But he does pull her closer, his arm hugging her waist, and he listens until her breaths even out. It doesn't take long for sleep to come afterwards.

In the morning, she wakes up first, tangled with him, she finds a way out without waking Killian. She sees the Advil on the nightstand, and vaguely recalls him placing it there for her, next to an empty mug of what was most likely hot chocolate.

She silences the pounding in her head with the pill, moving back to turn her body to face his sleeping form. He looks different in this morning light, younger and more relaxed, unlike how in the day, the weight of the heavy cases he takes on always cause his forehead to crease.

For a moment, she prays she didn't do anything embarrassing in her drunken state, (something embarrassing like bare her heart to him), but he's him and while she knows he's holding something _from_ her, he'd never hold anything like that against her.

Considering whether or not to make some coffee to start of their morning, she decides on not, preferring to lay here next to him. This doesn't help dull her feelings for him, the feelings she's been trying to keep at bay for the past God knows _how_ long, the feelings that she'd tried burying last night when promises to go out and get laid were on the table ( _until the tables turned, of course_ ).

It doesn't matter though – cause she knows that whatever attempts she makes in muting what she feels for him is futile, and maybe that's okay.

-/-

"They're having their baby?"

He nods happily, "About time – we've all been waiting on it for ages, and they've been keeping us on our toes about the gender."

"Why won't your cousin just tell you?"

Killian shrugs vacantly here, "They wanted to make it a surprise, and it's the first child from my uncle's side, so it's pretty much a big deal."

"So, a week again?" she asks, picking at her food. By now she's pretty much used to the annual one week without her best friend, in her head, she's already planning to ask either Ruby or Mary Margaret out one of these days (and _yes_ , she _knows_ she only comes to them when he's gone, but she has her reasons).

"You can handle a week without me, right?" he teases with a grin, and in a show of independence, she scoffs and rolls her eyes at him.

" _Please_ , if there's anyone who can't handle a week without the other, it's you. The last time you went back you wouldn't stop texting me, and you _were_ the one begging for me to get on Skype," she quips with arms folded and an arched eyebrow. He doesn't say anything, smiling with a shaking head as his eyes dart down to his plate. "How do you even always get to get off work for so long, anyway? When I take a couple days, the man shoots me death glares the moment I come back, _and_ I'm pretty sure, the last time, he told me I had a ' _nice tan'_ and _not_ in a complimenting way."

"But your tans are always complimenting, love," he deflects and as much as she hates to say it, it works.

"You'll send me to the airport, won't you?" he asks, and _as if_ there was a chance in hell where she wouldn't.

But she can't tell him that, so instead, "I'll have to check my schedule."

His grin is wide and he is _beautiful._

-/-

 _It's a boy!_

His text comes in while she's at work, and she can only imagine the smile apparent on his lips.

 ** _have you seen him yet?_**

 _Not quite, just waiting for the excitement to die down, and when they get back, I'll meet the little lad._

 ** _what's the little guy's name?_**

 _He remains unnamed for the time being._

 _They take it all very seriously, but I wager it'll be an extremely traditional name._

 ** _tell me when you know, alright?_**

 ** _and I'm expecting pictures_**

 _Of course, Swan._

 _Right – my sister's upset with me, for what, I don't know. So I'll talk to you once that's settled, yes?_

 ** _I will wait with bated breath_**

-/-

"Go out on a date with me."

She fakes consideration, her eyes squinting and her bottom lip bitten as though she actually has to think about it. But instead of going with the obvious answer, she goes with, "No."

"Wha-" his mouth is parted in surprise and she can't help admit that she's utterly pleased with his reaction.

"You've been keeping something from me, and I want to know what."

It's something that's been perpetually bugging her over the past four years, this secret he refuses to share, and at first, she'd let it slide – he isn't obliged to tell her every single aspect of his life, but since last week, since the kiss, she's decided that if they're going to take another step in this relationship, the truth is what she deserves.

" _Emma_ ," he pleads, eyes begging and _nope_ , she will _not_ cave to his baby blues.

"That's my only condition – you tell me what you've been hiding all this while, and I'll consider going out with you."

She watches as his jaw clenches, how his fingers crack as he balls them into fists, the way his eyes flicker around, and she just knows he's surveying his options here.

He lets out a defeated sigh, his eyes finally gazing up to meet hers, "Bloody hell, lass – you'll be the death of me."

-/-

It's her first time in first class, and _yeah_ , she's like a kid on Christmas day. But he doesn't seem to mind, his smile wide and his eyes bright as he laughs at her antics, of how she's overexcited about the treatment she's getting with how the stewardesses offer her drinks and blankets, and _God, she's adorable._

She's been guessing the whole time, since they left the house and still three hours into the flight – from him being a murderer who treats his victims far too lavishly to him being a British mobster ( _is there even such thing?_ ) who's leading her to her death. In most scenarios, it ends in death and, _bloody hell_ , it's going to be a long 8 hours.

He tells her to wait, and she gives him a petulant pout, but shuts her mouth anyway.

"I've got it," she can't stop herself ten minutes after she promises to not, "You're a multimillionaire playboy who's taking me to his mansion in the countryside where after days of pampering, will result in you brutally killing me."

"Why does it always end with death with you?"

"Because it's either that, or you're some King of some random country."

-/-

"You're an asshole."

"You wanted to know."

"You could've warned me before!"

He grins at that, "Where would the fun be in that?"

She hits him square in the arm and he plays it off like her punches don't actually hurt, and she throws a glare his way along with it.

"You owe me a date."

"You owe me an explanation."

He lets out a sigh as he falls back on the plush comforter of the bed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, "There's nothing to explain, love."

" _Nothing?_ " she presses, towering over him with arms crossed and eyes blazing, "How about the fact you're a _Prince_ and your cousins are _Will and Harry_. Jeez, you even know Kate!"

Killian squeezes his eyes shut, pushing himself up to press the balls of his hands into his face, "I'm sorry, okay? By the time I wanted to tell you, I was far too deep into _this_ , and I didn't want it to blow up in my face."

"You're a prince," she shakes her head disbelievingly, and he doesn't blame her – it's a lot to swallow. " _A prince_."

"In name," he clarifies, "I've as much claim to the throne as you do, love."

Emma falls soundly next to him, mirroring his body as her face falls into the palms of her hands. "A prince," she repeats nonetheless, mumbling the words through her fingers and ignoring him entirely.

He lets out a long breath, "Are we alright, or are we not?"

She remains still for three breaths, and truth be told, he fears what might happen if her answer is the latter, but still he braves a confident façade. Emma pulls away from her hands, her golden strands cascading her face and he has the urge to tuck them away for her, but he manages to resist as she does it herself.

While he still prays it changes nothing, he's watched over the past four years how quickly Emma can bolt, running away from potential relationships at the first sign of trouble, and _God_ , _please don't run_.

"You're a fool if you really believe I'm going to leave now," she speaks his mind, his worries apparent enough on his face for her to read, "Besides," she smiles, tilting her head at him, and he can't help but mirror her, "you owe me a date."

-/-

(Once they've gone on their date, once they've had their fill of much of what Britain has to offer, once she's all but met most of his _immediate_ family – Will and Harry _not_ included, to her dismay – and their back on the plane, she's back to flooding him with a myriad of questions.

"So that time when it was your _'grandma's birthday'_?" she asks with an arched eyebrow.

"Her diamond jubilee," he supplies.

"You said _family event_."

"Well, my family _was_ there—"

"And so was the rest of the world!"

"— _and_ I believe I said that others would join as well."

"Your cousin's wedding?"

" _Guess_."

" _You didn't invite me to_ _the Royal Wedding_?" she punches him hard in the arm.

He massages his numb muscles, throwing glares her way but it doesn't earn the sympathy he was reaching for, "Bloody hell, love – next question."

"That time you said you had to go home because someone was sick?"

" _Ah_ ," he recalls after a moment, "My sister was actually ill and I felt the need to come back – no lie there."

She seems content with that, nodding her head as she turns back in her seat, laying her feet out while she reclines herself.

It's several moments later when the silence is broken again.

"I'm dating a _prince_ ," she says in disbelief.

He can't help the laugh that slips from his lips as much as he can help the way his heart flutters at her words. But still, "Don't get ahead of yourself, Swan. It was _only_ one date – I haven't yet decided if I want to ask for a second."

If she kicks him in the shin, he ignores it, but if later, when he's sent her back to her apartment door and she asks for a second date, ignoring her would be the last thing he'd ever do.)


End file.
